


Rain

by AWomanInvisible



Series: A miscellany of Sherlock [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crime Scenes, Greg's POV, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mystrade fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4015465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWomanInvisible/pseuds/AWomanInvisible
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Getlestrade posted some fanart on tumblr. I've been struggling with writing recently. This may have helped clear the blockage.</p><p>Greg Lestrade is cold and wet as torrential rain deluges his crime scene. Luckily it was open and shut so no need for Sherlock, but he's cold, soaked, and disillusioned as he ambles away from the bright lights of the crime scene into the dark of a spring evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

> 'Lestrade in the Rain' by [getlestrade](http://greglestrade.co.vu/) inspired this story. Thank you for her kind permission to include her atmospheric artwork.
> 
> I've never written Mystrade before, so this is a bit of an experiment. I hope you like.

It had been an open and shut case. The victim stabbed in the neck during a drunken fight. His murderer fleeing round the corner away from his dying adversary before taking refuge from the rain in a doorway. Foolishly, the kid, no more than 18, had pulled out the knife his victim had forced into his shoulder. Within minutes he was dead, folded against the doorway, his blood draining rapidly from the severed artery, washing down the alley and into a sewer with the rain. 

Greg got no satisfaction from cases like this. Two stupid kids with too much booze and too much anger. Now neither had a future. Of course the usual procedures had to be followed. The crime scene taped off and the forensics techs photographing and gathering evidence. There wasn’t much for the DI to do now except rue the loss of life as a cold trickle of rain water drizzled off his sodden hair and down the collar of his shirt. He couldn’t be arsed to do up his coat, his suit and shirt were soaked anyway. He shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and turned away from the bright lights and bustle of the scene. Sally would supervise now. He’d sign off the paperwork tomorrow.

God, what a waste of life. He made his way towards the main road, not bothering to raise his eyes nor straighten his shoulders, rounded in resignation.

“Good evening Inspector.” 

The sultry voice startled him out of his morbid contemplation. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Mycroft’s glamorous assistant had a knack for appearing when he was at his most maudlin. His face brightened as he stepped through the open door, sliding into the warm leather interior of the Bentley. He knew a thermos of rich dark coffee would be waiting for him in the drinks cabinet, along with a decanter of  Caol Ila Moch single malt whisky. Not the finest whisky Scotland had to offer, but the smokey flavour reminded him of his summers on Islay with his grandparents, the memories almost as warming as the drink itself.

“Mr Holmes is awaiting you. The negotiations went more smoothly than anticipated.” 

Greg grinned. Good, Mycroft would be relaxed and pliant. Normally he was tense as a wound spring requiring Greg’s ministrations with fingers, and later lips, teeth and tongue, to massage out the stresses of the day from knotted muscles, before enjoying more intimate manipulations of each other’s bodies. 

He drained his coffee as the car pulled into the private garage in the mews behind Mycroft’s home. He would need a hot shower before he did anything. Perhaps Mycroft could be persuaded to join him under a much more enjoyable deluge. Greg’s grin turned from relieved at arriving home to positively lascivious at the thought of pale, freckled flesh turning pink under hot water and hotter palms. Sliding from the car and bidding Anthea and Williams goodnight, Greg strode purposely into the house, stopping only to shed his soaking coat and shoes as he sought out his partner, determined that, after the waste of life he’d left in the dirt of a back alley, tonight would become an affirmation of life and love.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Constructive feedback helps keep me inspired.
> 
> Don't forget to follow me on [tumblr](http://awomaninvisible.tumblr.com/)


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